


silk and silver

by harklights



Series: saso 2016 fills [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sport Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harklights/pseuds/harklights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the saso prompt: “Remember when Ennoshita was the crown prince and Tanaka (in the King’s Guard) fell in love with Ennoshita?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	silk and silver

He doesn’t see much the first time the crown prince comes by, crowded as it is. 

_King’s Guard,_ he thinks with satisfaction, armored shoulders straight and shining in the sunlight. Tanaka is newly appointed to the position but far from novice. He knows it’s better to keep his gaze roving over the crowd rather than stuck on his charge, eyes peeled and body alert to leap into action upon finding anything amiss.

A veritable entourage of townsfolk have flocked to the courtyard to see their king in the flesh. Sounds and colors fill the space: The swish of thick pluming riding cloaks, a whinny of a horse, the bannerman hefting a flag up tall and strong – raucous farewells given as the gate lifts up, and a quieter one exchanged between father and son before the company trickles out in a stamp of hooves. 

Tanaka catches just a glimpse of the prince there, standing still in the center of it all, left to look over the castle as the king rides off for diplomacy in distant lands.

*

 

In reality it’s not the king Tanaka has been tasked with protecting, but the eldest son. 

He learns that it’s a rather tame assignment.

The prince is an undemanding charge, never getting into trouble or riding off into the night, never inciting scandal, never falling into capricious moods or begging for conflict like some young men do. Instead, he typically stays holed up somewhere in the castle with his new work and responsibilities, and so they mostly see each other in passing and grow familiar in the way someone might notice a new installation in their bedroom. 

At least that’s what it feels like. For weeks Ennoshita doesn’t seem inclined to acknowledge Tanaka any further than necessary. Bored yet duty-bound, Tanaka tells himself that that’s pretty fair, even as he learns to pick the prince out from the sound of his footfalls or a glimpse out the corner of his eye. A slow attunement to the other’s presence that soon becomes second nature.

*

It’s not all peaceful though. 

A commotion comes knocking on their door a week later, demanding audience and perhaps seeking to take advantage of the king’s absence by steamrolling over the son. The prince gets summoned at a completely unreasonable hour – some bullshit excuse about road delays that Tanaka wants to roll his eyes at, knowing it’s all a tactic to catch them off guard the same way a night raid is designed to scatter forces.

Ennoshita comes out looking stately anyway in full regalia, steps alerting Tanaka to his approach well before he stops before the chamber doors where Tanaka has dragged himself to help receive everyone – and to keep the peace if it came to that.

When Ennoshita remains still for longer than a minute, Tanaka thinks that it’s irritation tightening his lips. A remnant of being woken up for an unsavory task. But then he sees the prince’s fingers opening and closing around a fist, fingers seeking something to do the same way Tanaka’s wrist falls over the pommel of his sword for reassurance. 

Maybe there’s not much difference between the pressures of silks and metal, armor and tunic, and the expectation to perform.

“Nervous?” Tanaka asks, and then freezes because he’s certain that whatever happens beyond the doors isn’t exactly his business and that bringing up a royal’s flaw to _his face_ has to be some kind of social faux pas. Probably a big one. Maybe even as big as his big mouth. The other stationed guard does a poor job of hiding a bemused glance too, but it’s too late now - the crown prince is looking straight at Tanaka and he’s – it’s quite possibly the first time they’ve truly looked at each other past obligation, good or bad as that is, and it’s only Tanaka’s training that prevents him from flinching even though there’s nothing harsh in the glance.

“Believe it or not,” the prince says, surprisingly colloquial, “Public speaking hasn’t come naturally to me.”

“Really?” Tanaka blurts, and tries not to feel like he’s shoving his foot into his mouth. Or drowning in the small, quirked smile that the prince gives him, there and gone like the flutter of a curtain. A glimpse at the person shuttered behind it.

“Really.”

“You always sound fine to me. I mean. I don’t think people come to you just because they have to, but because you’re always saying good things. And they trust that. And you don’t take any bullsh- nonsense either.”

The prince blinks twice in quick succession. “I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You’ll do great,” Tanaka croaks, resolving himself to shut up.

The doors opens and they both straighten; prince sweeping into the chamber to hold audience, guard resolving himself to standing just inside the doors, looking equal parts removed and intimidating.

He’s always loved the intimidation part of the job.

*

Hours later, a reception. Possibly the most rushed reception of all time. Some of the servers look stressed as they putter about to entertain guests that no one really wanted in the first place, but whose status required some amount of pomp and circumstance that plying with good food always helped achieve. He’s certain he hears Yachi wail at least once somewhere from the depths of the kitchens.

They manage to pull it off anyway.

“Hello.”

Tanaka sucks in a breath. Wonders when he started needing that kind of preparation for talking to someone.

He turns and sees a weary looking Ennoshita, still trussed up in the same clothes he had been earlier. Thinks about the peasant rumors of going blind when looking into the face of royalty and wonders if that’s less about divine wrath and more about lidded eyes and handsomely fitted clothes and the sweep of a jawline and _higher powers cut me down for that one, for sure_.

“Hey,” replies Tanaka, and then, “My Lord.”

Ennoshita smiles as if the greeting is the most refreshing thing he’s heard all day.

And then he plucks several flaky treats off a passing platter and offers one up to Tanaka, whose stomach suddenly decides that it’s feeling rather peckish by releasing a growl into the air. The prince cocks his head but makes no comment.

“Is this allowed?”

“Really? Why not?” Ennoshita answers with all the nonchalance of his rank, sweet and clean. “I’m right here. Being guarded. You’re doing your job and I’m sure no horror will befall me during a two minute snack break unless someone _else_ decides to rile me up and think they can get away with it, and if anyone has an issue with that then you can be my… my poison tester.”

Tanaka’s eyes widen at the good humor, the constrained irritation that he’s half expected since the beginning, his hand hovering ridiculously in the air between them. “Another promotion already?” Is all he manages. The pastry looks honey drizzled with a crumble of something golden atop. Nuts, maybe. 

“The position is open if you’re interested.”

“I don’t know if I’m qualified. I’ve only had the pleasure of eating poison once but when I told my sister that she said she’d turn me out of the house if I kept on complaining about her cooking.”

“Well. Since it’s already a pleasure to you, I’m willing if you are.”

Oh, god.

 _“Take_ it already, Tanaka.”

He does, because he’s hungry, because he can’t refuse, because he needs something to wash down the pleasure of hearing his name said for the first time, and the slightly more worrying pleasure that the exasperated command stirs within him, because Ennoshita’s laugh is soft and genuine and kind. When he eats it’s a sweet, buttery thing that melts on his tongue and leaves him cursing the entire concept of finger foods. Gone too soon.

He thinks the prince may only be using him as a distraction from socializing if the way the man’s eyes keep jumping to the far side of the room is any indicator, where there’s a clump of Important People mingling and gesturing to one another in the hands not clutching crystal flutes of alcohol, but Tanaka can’t seem to mind that very much either. Or at all. He’s relieved that he can provide the small service. A small bit of relief.

These events can be delicate, vicious little gatherings. He would want a break from it all too.

“Poisoned?” Ennoshita asks after a pause.

“Mm. I’m not sure. Might need to try the other one to be sure, or confiscate the entire plate. You know, just in case.”

“I wanted to thank you for talking to me earlier,” Ennoshita says, apropos of nothing. “Although it makes me worried how out of sorts I must have looked to you and everyone else that you did feel the need to speak up.”

“No, that’s just me running my mouth when I’m not supposed to. It happens all the time. You really didn’t. Look that out of sorts. You actually look really fucking – uh, sorry – really put together most of the time, even at that awful hour. I’ve just been…” _Watching you, so I could tell._ Tanaka pauses. It’s true, it’s essentially his job to watch and notice things and decide whether or not to smack his sword against what he finds, but something stays his tongue and niggles at his chest, digging in even harder when Ennoshita looks steadily at him as if expecting more, or simply giving him a chance to say more. His eyes are a dark, dark brown, reminding Tanaka of saturated soil after a heavy rain. There’s something bracing in that gaze, down to earth and engaging, yet a little hard to hold the longer it lingers – a boot slipping through the mud, that breathless moment before catching yourself, caught in a mire that’s usually so easy to tread, the thought of yanking free a slow, suctioned thing.

When Ennoshita deems the lull stretched long enough to interrupt, Tanaka sucks in an messy breath that they both thankfully ignore.

“Still, most people seem to think that I’m a little… untouchable. Especially if they work closely for me or for father. I can understand that.”

“The crown prince thing can do that. And the wise tale that looking into a royal’s face if you’re lowborn will turn you blind.”

“I like that one, as amazing as it is. Imagine if it were true.”

 _“I’d_ like to keep my eyesight.”

“Too much power for one person, isn’t it?” Ennoshita replies, sounding amused.

Tanaka’s struck with a sudden suspicion that there really is a morsel of truth to the tale after all. That the prince could walk down to the stables and bend everyone to his will, turn the dirty hay to spun gold, strike us down with a glance and a smile. Except. He’s not like that at all. No pedestal, no pomp. He in fact feels very human in moments like this when his fingertips brush Tanaka’s palm as he drops another pastry there and brings the last to his own lips, both eat in compatible silence and avoiding the tittering gossip around them. A crumb gets stuck to the corner of Ennoshita’s mouth – Tanaka could go back to the barracks and say _he eats just like you and I, maybe even messier, he cleans his fingers off on his pants leg instead of on a napkin, he gets anxious like any other man and gets shit done and plays with humor more than you’d expect, and he’s got these eyes like – and a voice like -_

Ennoshita makes conversation too, haltingly at first until Tanaka makes it clear that he’s interested in listening. How he used to hate swordplay, how he ran away from his lessons once due to the old teacher’s strictness, how he staunchly refused to return even as he began to miss it, how he instead wished to be (“don’t laugh”, and tanaka nearly did at how improbable that would be) a playwright or a poet or an actor or some other brand of entertainer entirely unbecoming of the blood in his veins, of the divinity of his promised crown, (blah blah blah, the flick of Ennoshita’s wrist seemed to say, and Tanaka had to agree that these fits of creativity makes the prince look more alive than anything else he’s seen before. He has to insist that Ennoshita has a kind of charisma that isn’t loud or brash but there, undeniable present, falling over you like a spell the longer you’re exposed to it).

Courage, then.

“Swordplay,” Tanaka starts, still half expecting to be struck down by that gaze when it slides over him. “Do you still hate it?”

“No. I actually enjoy it quite a bit now, although I’m sure it would be nothing compared to a real soldier such as yourself who has already made a career of it.” Tanaka frowns, thinking he’s heard that ‘although’ qualifier several times. “You’re very young to make the King’s Guard and it speaks well of how good you must be. But, yes. I like it. Of course I am expected to… Well.” Ennoshita stops as if realizing that boundaries still exist and that he’s accidentally come close to one of his own. 

Tanaka doesn’t push it. Doesn’t examine the private glow in his chest at the praise.

“Would you like to test that?” He asks instead.

Ennoshita looks to him.

“Come down to the practice ring. Blow off a bit of steam after all this fru fru stuff,“ he dares to suggest, grinning as Ennoshita silently mouths the words _fru fru_. "Only if you have that sort of time since you’re… I know you’re very busy. But I bet the boys’ll be happy to see you if you can make it, though a few of them will probably shit their – shit, pardon - ”

“Elegant,” Ennoshita smiles with teeth. When Tanaka is too startled to offer an immediate response the prince adds, “You don’t have to clean your mouth for me. I’ve heard worse before. I kind of find it charming.”

Charming. _Charming._ Tanaka doesn’t touch that either, because if he does he thinks he might sink into the ground and discover something there that he’s really not supposed to – _that he’s really not._

“Okay. Yeah. Swords. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun,” Ennoshita repeats in a tone too flat for Tanaka to interpret, especially when the smile fades away. He worries that he’s been caught out. That it might be rejection at last; a foot fallen a little too far past the line of friendly conversation and joking around. Ennoshita probably has the finest trainers and tutors around if he ever wanted to swing a sword with someone, and he’s never exactly shown an interest in rough and tumble throngs of soldiers that stay at the castle, so why would he want to slug it out among his guardsmen? Why had Tanaka even thought to suggest -

“…Okay.”

Tanaka startles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Abruptly, Ennoshita turns away. “I have to go.”

And then he’s truly gone, weaving his way towards the clump Important People, getting engaged by someone even before Tanaka tears his eyes away and tries to settle back into his sentinel duty, feeling a restlessness buzz beneath his skin that hadn’t been there before.

Somehow, despite the sudden end to the conversation, it doesn’t feel like a dismissal. Not at all. 

*

In the end, they draw a crowd. Tanaka should have expected it. Who wouldn’t want to see their crown prince duel, the same crown prince who seems to prefer skirting around the public eye rather than lusting after in it? What a spectacle. Tanaka keeps glancing at Ennoshita, wondering if he’s beginning to regret coming out.

But Ennoshita is center stage now, and if he’s nervous about it he’s hiding it well. Shoulders loose, expression calm, movements slow with leisure rather than uncertainty as he picks up his sword and tests its weight with the familiarity of tying up one’s boot strings. A comfortable, everyday thing. The people leaned against the railings don’t appear to distract or distress him. He’s dressed down as simply as Tanaka thinks he will ever see him. A tunic and loose pants, black on black embroidery that catches in the sun and disappears in the shade, crow’s wings stretched center over his chest. Black is an odd royal color and surely bleak as death during the summer months. All suffering for symbolism. Black, the absence of all colors, the mixing of all colors, whatever it was – a shade of sacrifice, hard work, sturdiness.

Ennoshita wears it well. Really well.

_Don’t fuck yourself over before it even starts, man._

Ennoshita gives him his attention, and there’s a smile playing around his lips. Tanaka is stunned to see it for the excitement that it was.

Tanaka might be fucked.

“You weren’t lying when you said you like to scrap, huh?”

“No. Though maybe you could phrase it as something more savory than ‘I like to scrap’.”

Tanaka snorts and Ennoshita, generous, handsome, quiet, doesn’t even bat an eyelash in offense.

“So,” his prince says, studying the space between them, and then Tanaka’s face. “Will you be fighting dirty today?”

Tanaka manages a laugh. “Me? I’m the cleanest fighter on this side of the kingdom.”

“You can’t see it but a man just scoffed behind you and now I’m not sure if I can take your word on that.”

“Noya just wishes he’d been able to snag a sparring session with a prince too.”

“Oh. Maybe next time.”

“Nice. I’d watch that,” Tanaka says, beginning to feel a thrill for what was to come. He’s always loved this, ever since he was a kid twirling branches around and playing make believe with his sister. Training too, as hellish as that had been on some days when penalties and drills left him scoured out and wheezing.

They don’t circle, but sink into their stances gauge each other, knowing that it’s begun without saying so. Ennoshita seems inclined to give Tanaka the first move. Tanaka has never refused a chance to go charging in.

“I should make you yield at least once,” Ennoshita murmurs, just barely audible over the crowd.

And there’s a jumbled up moment where Tanaka forgets himself and the ring and the crowd, where he swears that the words are a command rather than a suggestion and feels himself begin to bend toward it, to yield, to want it with all his heart to and thinks, _oh, you don’t even know you’re halfway there already._

**Author's Note:**

> and then ennoshita meets nishinoya and says "wow tanaka for a guard your friend is sh-" "SHAPING UP TO BE A REAL CHALLENGE HUH HAHA HARDEST GUY TO BEAT WHEN IT COMES TO COUNTERING LEMME TELL YA"
> 
> nishinoya with helmet hair loses his precious few centimeters of extra height


End file.
